


Petal Fall

by BoxOnTheNile



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: F/M, RvB Rare Pair Week, hanahaki, happy ending I promise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-08
Updated: 2018-05-08
Packaged: 2019-05-03 20:41:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14577222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BoxOnTheNile/pseuds/BoxOnTheNile
Summary: He adjusts. He gets used to the ache in his ribs, the constant lightheadedness from oxygen deprivation. Yells less, because he physically can't anymore, ends up listening to Vanessa more as a result. She cares, about all of Chorus, will move heaven and earth to save her planet and her people.The more he listens, the more he loves her. The more he loves her, the further the flowers dig into his lungs and heart until every breath burns.





	Petal Fall

**Author's Note:**

> It's rare pair week I gotta produce content for the forbidden otp
> 
> Edit: Realized that maybe people don't know what hanahaki is! I'm so sorry!
> 
> Hanahaki is a trope where unrequited love leads to flowers blooming in the lungs. The flowers can be removed with surgery, but it takes the feelings of love as well. Untreated, the flowers grow until the afflicted suffocates on petals.

_She's amazing,_ he thinks. She's furious, eyes burning with fury and tongue sharper than her combat knife, every once of that anger turned on him, and all he can think is _Vanessa Kimball is beautiful._

God help him. 

“Are you even listening to me, Doyle?” she demands, and he freezes. It must show on his face, because she makes a wordless, furious sound. 

“Enough!” Agent Carolina steps forward and puts herself between them. “We're getting nowhere like this. Let's take ten minutes to cool down-” she looks at Kimball- “and refocus-” a pointed glare at Doyle- “and try again.”

Kimball turns on her heel and stalks from the room. Carolina follows, and the door to the War room clicks shut behind them. 

_Three, two, and…_

Doyle's lungs seize and he coughs, harsh and painful, as petals force their way up his throat again. There's a terrifying moment where he can't _breathe_ , but it passes, leaving the table littered in sky-blue camellia. 

Back before the war, Doyle’s mother had been a florist. She'd taught him the language of flowers, how to read a bouquet like poem, and he still remembered that language. 

Camellia. Admiration and respect.

There's blood on the edge of one petal. He sweeps them all into his pockets. 

He always thought Vanessa Kimball would be the death of him. He just didn't expect it like this.

* * *

He adjusts. He gets used to the ache in his ribs, the constant lightheadedness from oxygen deprivation. Yells less, because he physically can't anymore, ends up listening to Vanessa more as a result. She cares, about all of Chorus, will move heaven and earth to save her planet and her people.

The more he listens, the more he loves her. The more he loves her, the further the flowers dig into his lungs and heart until every breath burns. 

He knows he can't keep hiding this. He should go to Emily, have the flowers and feelings removed, but this love is tangled in respect and esteem. He can't afford losing those. Chorus can't afford it.

They’re finally learning to compromise. The New Republic only ever formed because the people felt they weren’t being heard, Doyle learns. As Vanessa starts to feel like he’s hearing her, she is more willing to hear him in return.

He knows she’ll take care of his people. In the end, they’re all Chorusans, and all Vanessa Kimball ever wanted was a safe Chorus.

* * *

When he finds the Key, he’s freezing and frightened and fighting for breath. He knows Felix is here. He knows he cannot let the merc get this sword.

He staggers back when the AI winks into being. “Are you certain?” it asks. It does not say what they both already know. 

“No,” Doyle tells it. He takes the Key.

Later, when Felix has him backed against a cliff, he can’t help but laugh.

“What’s so funny, General?” Felix asks. He’s not worried- why would he be? He has the upperhand. Except-

Except.

“Oh, it’s just… I’m already dying.” He wheezes, tastes blood and petals on his tongue. “Tell me, Felix, are you familiar with hanahaki?”

The mercenary straightens, lunges, but Doyle has already stepped back into open air.

He lands hard in the snow below and several somethings _snap,_ but he’s alive and his radio is buzzing with several voices- Emily, who saw him fall; Agent Washington, who heard Emily scream and is demanding his status; and Kimball.

Vanessa.

_“Hang on, Doyle! I swear to god, if you fucking die-”_

His chest spasms, but, somehow, his next breath comes easier.

He doesn’t know about the rest, because he passes out.

* * *

He wakes in the hospital in Armonia. There’s several long minutes where he stares at the ceiling, air rattling in his lungs around flowers he knows will kill him. He’s a little surprised they’re still there, but of course Emily would leave that choice to him. 

He hears a soft sigh and looks down. Vanessa is asleep in the chair next to the bed, head pillowed on her arms in the space next to his ribs. Her typical braid is frayed, and there’s dark shadows under her eyes,

She’s still the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen.

He coughs sharply, and his whole body protests the movement. He struggles to prop himself up, tears building in his eyes. It _hurts_ , and the flowers keep catching in his throat.

Cold hands with callused fingers carefully help him sit, and coughs and retches for a moment, petals falling from his lips to the blankets, red and blue against the stark white.

“You fucking moron,” Vanessa whispers once the fit is over. “Why did you let it get this bad?”

“It’s worth it,” he says, hoarse.

“I’m really not.”

He looks at her, shocked. She’s still holding him up, but she won’t look at him. He’s struck with the urge to kiss her, which isn’t new, but she’s never been so close before.

She’s never looked so _sad_. 

“Do you know what camellias mean?” he asks softly. She shakes her head. “Admiration. And how could I not admire you? General, you’re…” For the first time in his life, words fail him.

But Vanessa has never been a woman of words. She _acts,_ and throws her arms around him, pulling him tight to her chest. “Don’t speak. You’ll ruin it.”

So he doesn’t. He cups her face and kisses her, soft and brief. Vanessa lifts her hand to her lips, and that fire lights once more in her eyes. She surges forwards and kisses him back, but hungrier. Angrier. More.

His broken ribs protest, and he gasps and grimaces. She pulls back quickly. 

“Here’s what’s going to happen,” she tells him. “You’re going to heal. We’re going to kill those _motherfucking mercenaries_ before they kill us. And I’m going to fuck those flowers out of you. Okay?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Doyle says.


End file.
